in the absence of everything, i promise to keep you warm
by tiniestoftrees
Summary: "Everyone has to write a breakup song at least once, right?" Second Person point of view for Marshall, Prince Gumball is heavily mentioned but doesn't actually appear in the story.


Sometimes when the rain poured down so hard, you imagined yourself behind the brink of the storm. The pitter-patter of water hitting stucco walls kept you at ease. It was a song you imagined a mother would sing to a child fawning sleep.

You laid down in a sea of grass and watched the clouds roll by. Your skin began to shiver at the change in temperature, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The rain rolling down your cheeks made you feel at peace. It reminded you that you weren't alone, for the sky cried too sometimes. And when the sky began to scream and shout, the clashes of lightning were his teeth that flashed whenever he smiled.

That was the best and worst thing about storms.

The rain that littered the grass blades was the sweat that beaded off his skin when you were together. You found your hands grasping through the grass as if it was his hair. Although it wasn't the same color nor texture, it still found the spaces between your fingers all the same.

You recalled all the moments before that lead to this one. This moment where you feel like a rug was pulled beneath you, leaving this strange feeling of vertigo as if you were being dragged to a storm. The thunder masked the yelling in his room. The only problem was, you couldn't tell whose yells were being covered. Both of your voices echoed off the walls and rang in your ears more than any concert you've ever been to. The saddest part was even in that moment, he was still beautiful. You may have convinced yourself that you were done with him, that this wasn't worth the effort or heartbreak. But seeing his pale skin flushed red and shaking with emotion proved to you that there was no way you could ever be done with him. He was a bad habit you couldn't kick.

But it's not like you wanted to anyway.

He made every follicle on your body raise, your skin crawl. He knew how to get under your skin and what made you tick. In a way, he was everything you were not and vice versa. He loved the sun while you longed for rain, he loved everything pure and good, yet you were everything but. You clashed heads like the ocean to the shore, but without the shore there is no coast. You always hated clichés and although you knew neither of you were magnets, you still found ways to attract.

Despite being polar opposites, you both found you were drawn to each other. You were the artist while he was the muse and neither of you can create something beautiful without the other.

You sit up and feel your soaked clothes stick to your body. You hope that when you leave, the imprint left in the grass would fade. In that moment you had realized that every thought that revolved around him was in the past tense. You kept this notion on hold as you picked yourself and brushed the water droplets off your jeans. Moping never got you anywhere before, you figured it wouldn't change its course for you now.

Heading home, you ponder on what you said that might have set him off. Nothing was out of the ordinary and nothing was done any differently than before. Maybe there was something going on that neither of you could understand, you just hope that it passes quickly. It might have only happened a few days ago, but you haven't seen or heard from him since. You already miss him, you always miss him when you part.

There's nothing for you anywhere else besides him. At home, you play the same old songs and hope for a new idea to come. But without inspiration, you're at a prolonged pause and a state of nothingness. You don't feel like you're anything when you aren't doing what you love, and what you love is music and him.

Of course you never wanted to be like this- a whiny, clingy child who just wanted to be loved and bathed in attention, but no one plans how hard they fall. And oh God, did you fall.

You fell for his hidden smile when you would go on about new strings or finding old guitar picks in the strangest of places. You fell for the prince, the strong leader who cares about his people the way you wished someone had for you. Sure, you had your father and Simone but sadly, their presence was only there for a portion of this everlasting life you live. Sometimes you wonder if you could even call it a life to begin with. There are times when you don't feel like you're alive, just existing. Yes, your lungs inhale and exhale just fine, and your heart pumps blood through your veins, but you don't feel alive. Shit, there are times where you don't want to do either.

But he, he changed that.

He showed you that you weren't alone, for not only does the sky cry, it's lonely too. The sky has only the clouds as its companions, and even then the clouds would go away on the sunniest of days- the days where others are the most happy. He taught you the difference between being and feeling alone- he taught you the difference between love and codependence. And to this day, he could argue all he wants but you know you love him.

You've always had a bad habit of collecting insignificant pieces of trash, (you wouldn't call it trash but he said postcards from places you've never been too and bottlecaps of drinks you've shared with age old demons are in fact, trash) and after meeting him you threw it all away. You threw away the water damaged photographs of strangers you found caught in sewer drains, the notebooks written in languages you can't understand, and anything involving a person you never met. You let go pieces of the past to focus on the future.

For the first time in what seems like forever, you saw yourself having a future. Even though at this point you are unsure if he will be in that future, you're content with the thought of just having one.

At home you do the same things you have been doing for the past millennium, pet your dog, go in your room, and interchange between playing and listening to music. Surely after laying down outside in the rain you changed before anything else, but this still lead to the normal routine that you have seem to convict yourself to.

But something different occurs, you find yourself playing chords in a new pattern, throwing in a couple of power chords, melodies, and harmonics. Before you knew it, you were writing lyrics to a song you've never listened to. After years of feelings empty, (followed by lovesick thanks to him), and lost, you finally feel something new.

Bitter.

Everyone has to write a breakup song at least once, right?


End file.
